by Anna Elias
The sickly man smiled. A tooth fell out. Meet me in back. The Spirit limped him away.
Aaron’s tattoo stopped burning, and the chilly air warmed around him. Still, the hair on his neck would not go down. The only things out back in this older-style gas station were the bathrooms. Where no one can see us, Aaron thought. His inner voice would not shut up, but Aaron shoved it aside and strode toward the front, forgetting all about his drink.
He paid for the gas and pocketed the change. “Key to the men’s room?”
“Other dude just took it.”
Aaron nodded and walked out, the stench of rotting flesh still stinging his nose. He moved the shelter’s SUV from the pump to a parking spot in back, closer to the bathrooms in case he needed a quick escape. He stepped out and looked around. The dying man was nowhere in sight.
“Aaron?” a man yelled from the distance. “Aaron Hall? Is that you?”
Aaron knew that voice. Blood drained from his face as he turned to see his brother-in-law, Joe, standing at the farthest pump about fifty yards away. Aaron bolted through a rancid puddle to the bathroom door. The silver key rested on the ground outside, tucked behind a garbage can. It dangled on a large wooden stick wrapped in colorful duct tape.
Aaron scooped it up and fumbled the key into the lock.
“Aaron. Wait,” Joe called out. “I’ve been looking everywhere, man. We’re all worried sick. Aaron.”
Joe abandoned the pump handle in his car and hurried over.
Aaron jiggled the key in the rusty lock. “Come on, come on.”
“Aaron.” Joe sprinted across the parking lot. “Wait!”
Aaron worked the key harder. Click. The lock turned. He opened the door and dashed into the unlit, windowless room, then quickly slammed the door shut and locked it again as—
Joe beat on the metal from outside. “Aaron, please. I haven’t stopped looking for you since you left. Come on, man. You’ve no idea what I’ve been through. Bugging the cops for your cell phone history and tracking the title on the car you donated. I just want to talk, man. Are you okay?”
Tell him you’re fine.
Aaron spun in the darkness, wincing at the smell of drained sewage. The light flipped on, and he stood face-to-face with the pallid, sallow guide. The man’s black eyes were vacant, and his skin as pale and gray as the dirty bathroom tiles. He looked—
Dead? No. But he will be soon. Come.
“Aaron,” Joe pleaded from outside. “Please. I want to talk. That’s all. I miss her, too, man. I do. Every damned day. But life goes on, you know? Including yours. We need you, Aaron. I need you. Hell, all of Seattle needs you back behind your drafting table.”
Silence.
“She died too young,” Joe continued. “But at least she died doing something she loved, right?”
“An IED blew her unit to hell,” Aaron growled through the door, his anger bubbling to the surface. “Love had nothing to do with it.”
The sickly man smiled.
“This was Shellie’s last tour, Joe. She planned to get out and go back to school. She wanted to start our family, and to run her own daycare.” The pain sliced Aaron open again. “She was twenty-eight, for Christ’s sake. She died before she ever got the chance to live.”
The rogue Spirit grew stronger with Aaron’s anger, making Matheus stand a little taller. Tell him you will be right out.
Aaron worried at the unnerving grin on those pallid lips but obeyed. “Give me a minute, Joe. I just need a minute.”
Good. Now come. Quickly.
Eric turned Aaron to face a small, scratched mirror mounted over the one stained sink, then dragged Matheus to stand behind him. Aaron’s breath hitched at the reflection—as their bodies drew close and their heads aligned.
“Aaron, please come out,” Joe begged. “Let’s talk about this.”
His voice fell away, and the smell of rotted jasmine burned Aaron’s nose. Before he had time to rethink his decision, the sick man’s eyes beamed emerald green. Aaron’s did the same, and the last thing he saw in the cracked mirror was his panicked face beneath two glowing orbs as both pairs merged into one.
Outside, strange green light spilled from under the door.
“Aaron?” Joe called, pounding on the door. “Answer me.”
From inside, painful moans became screams, the strange light brightened and gusty air lashed out.
“Aaron!” Joe cried, twisting the handle and throwing his body against the metal door.
The glow dimmed and the wind died. The moaning faded and Joe yanked so hard on the door it nearly broke. “AARON.”
He raced around the building, burst through the front door, and skidded up to the clerk. “You got another key to the men’s room?”
“One at a time, pal,” the clerk scoffed. “We don’t do that here.”
Joe lifted the man by his shirt. “My friend’s in there, pal, and he needs help. Give me the damn key.”
The clerk hastily produced a spare.
Joe snatched it and bolted to the bathroom. He shoved the key in the door and twisted hard until the rusty lock turned.
“Aaron, I’m—”
He flung the door open, slamming the handle against a piece of tiled wall. Aaron was gone, but a decrepit-looking young man knelt on the grimy floor, retching into the toilet. He looked up, gaunt eyes sagging in their sockets.
“Where am I?” he asked.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
TAL
A chorus of crickets and katydids filled the night air as Tal rocked alongside Grace on the wooden porch. Their wide-armed chairs, bathed in moonlight, creaked in time with whippoorwill song from the surrounding trees. Bats darted over the cotton fields, their flight fast and agile.
“Things are far less complicated on the other side,” Darleen said, her voice soft inside Tal’s. “I wish I could explain it better, but you just have to trust.”
Tal was certain the girl did. Grace was thoughtful and humble, and she missed her mom so much she would have embraced a snake if Darleen had chosen to come back as one. Tom, on the other hand, didn’t trust his own shadow. He would have torn off the snake’s head, burned it to embers, and then stopped to wonder if Darleen’s reappearance might be true.
Darleen pulsed inside, a gentle current of reprimand. Tal shifted in the chair. Sorry. The Spirit warmed again.
“The other side is so much bigger, and so much more beautiful and connected than you can imagine,” Darleen continued. “With no walls to divide anybody. And there’s so much love, Gracie. Like that moon tonight, big and bright and shining the same on everyone.”
“But you committed suicide.” The girl’s voice cracked. “The preacher said killing yourself is a mortal sin, the worst one next to killing somebody else. He said you’d burn in Hell for doing it.” The crack became a cry.
Darleen put Tal’s arm around the girl’s sobbing shoulders. The Spirit had picked this time to return, knowing Tom would be at his weekly poker game. Grace had sensed her mother during Tal’s first visit, and Darleen wanted to reconnect this second time before he came home.
“Did it seem that way to you when I left?” Darleen asked. “Like I went to Hell?”
A piece of hair pulled loose from Grace’s ponytail and fluttered in the breeze. She made no move to fix it. “No,” she confessed, studying her hands. “It didn’t.”
Tal recognized the conflict twisting in the girl’s expression. Sometimes church was God’s best reflection in the world, and sometimes the worst, and both because it was made of people—sinful, fallible, mistake-making people with good intentions who fell far short of God’s unconditional and perfect love. Tal’s Sunday school teachings had never fully resonated with her thoughts about God. The pastor preached judgment while her personal experience involved more love, mercy, and grace. Tal inhaled the fresh pine and blossoming dogwoods. Becoming a Vessel and hosting a Spirit had confirmed her sense of things.
“Right,” Darleen said, tucking the wayward hai
r behind Grace’s ear. “Hell is not automatic. We’re given love and second chances, which is why I’ve been allowed to come back.”
Grace’s mood darkened. Her brow knitted over stormy eyes. “But how could you leave us like that in the first place?”
Darleen’s compassion overflowed. She seemed to know this visit would reopen a festering wound. Her child needed to bleed in order to heal.
“You left me alone with him,” Grace said, each word a painful barb. “He got so mad at you for ‘being selfish enough to kill yourself,’ Momma, and he dumped all that anger on me. I didn’t have anyone to turn to. I needed you. Why did you leave me?”
Those words would have cut a normal mother wide open, but Tal thought she would catch fire from the love Darleen shared. “It’s why I came back.” Darleen lifted the girl’s chin to catch her eye. “To ask you and Daddy to forgive me.”
Grace threw her arms around Tal, squeezing Darleen’s soul inside. Their hearts beat together, and the ancient-looking symbol on Tal’s tattoo supercharged into a glowing adapter that allowed her body to channel the current of love surging like a power line between them. It launched Tal’s senses into supernatural realms, as well. A bird took flight in a distant tree, and a horde of insects zoomed by like fighter jets, fleeing the bats that thundered after them.
Not even two minutes passed before the torrent faded and Grace let go. Tal’s tattoo returned to normal and she eased back to study the girl’s sweet face. She prayed Tom would reach this same end, but his heart was thick as tar, and Darleen only had two more days before the Spirit ship returned.
“I never stopped loving you, Gracie,” she said, drying her daughter’s tears with Tal’s hand. “You were my world. But your father made that world unbearable, with his drinking and his anger and his beatings. Your daddy worked hard for us, and I knew he loved us, but he became so cruel and hateful. I could barely speak a word without him hitting me. My father treated me the same as a little girl, and I couldn’t take it any longer, honey. I needed out, and I didn’t know any other way. I’m sorry.”
Grace’s eyes welled again, and Tal realized she’d considered doing the same thing herself. Darleen knew, too, and enveloped her daughter in Tal’s arms.
“I’m sorry, Momma,” Grace said. “I hate Daddy so much for being this way. I hated him for being worse when you left. And ...” She looked away. “I hated you for leaving.”
Darleen hugged her close.
Jealousy flared as Tal helped this Spirit bridge death’s divide to hold her child again. What she wouldn’t give for the same chance with Darden.
Headlights gashed the darkness as Tom turned into the drive. Grace jumped up and Tal stood in front to shield her. Their rocking chairs slowed as he skidded to an angry stop.
Tom killed the engine but forgot to turn off the lights. He staggered out red-faced and drunk in front of their cutting white beams. “I told you to stay away from here. Ain’t you got no ears to hear my words? Or no brains to understand ‘em?”
“Daddy,” Grace pleaded. “She’s okay. It’s okay. You’ll see.”
“A nigger on my porch is never okay. Not unless I’m paying ‘em a day’s wage.”
Tal’s anger ignited. Darleen swelled to put out her fire.
Tom barged up onto the darkened porch and grabbed Tal’s arm. She was elflike compared to him, but fast and ready to fight.
“Daddy, please.”
Tom yanked Tal toward the steps, but Darleen turned to stone and the effort jerked him back until he nearly tumbled off.
The man’s nostrils flared.
“Tom, stop,” Darleen ordered, her voice clear and forceful through Tal’s mouth.
He froze.
“It’s me. And whether you like it or not, I have come back to say goodbye.” The Spirit made the green flecks sparkle in Tal’s eyes.
Tom drew back at first, then snarled, “You some kinda devil? Get the hell out of here.” He grabbed Tal’s wrist hard enough to cut off circulation. “This is your last warning before I call Sheriff Tate.”
“She’s telling the truth, Daddy.” Grace reached for his arm. “Please. She knows things to prove it.”
Tom spun and slapped Grace hard across the cheek. “She might fool you with all that sweet talk, but it ain’t foolin’ me.”
Tal jerked her hand free and sprang between Tom and Grace. She stood poised in the twin shafts of truck beams, fists clenched. Darleen swelled in Tal and swamped her rising anger like a cold wave. Tal lowered her fists. “Don’t do that again,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
“Or what?” Tom shoved his brawny frame in her face.
“Or this.” Tal grabbed his arm, spun him behind her back and flipped him over her head. He slammed down hard enough to shake the whole house.
Tom sobered fast and scrambled to his feet. His boot hit the edge and tumbled him down the porch steps to land with a thud near the truck. Dirt and dust kicked up in the headlights.
“Daddy? Are you okay?” Grace hurried down to help.
She reached for him, but Tom pushed her away. He glared at Tal, still livid but with more respect.
The headlights glinted in her eyes. The Spirit beamed in them, too.
“You’re forgiven, Tom,” Darleen said through Tal’s lips.
Tom lurched to his feet. “What’d you say?”
“I said you’re forgiven.”
He turned crimson. “I don’t need forgiving, you—” He started for the steps.
“I forgive you, Tom Watts.” Darleen’s mighty but loving voice rooted him in place. “Because you have no idea what you did to me then, or what you’re doing to Gracie now. You are a victim of your upbringing and your misguided male domination. You made me into a subservient wife slave with your abuse, your rage, and your rape.”
Tom’s mouth dropped open.
Darleen walked Tal down the steps to face him. “No one allowed me to think for myself. Not as a daughter, not as a woman, and not as a wife. Did you even know I had a brain?”
Tom’s jaw clenched. His fists curled and he lunged.
Tal dropped him again with a sweeping kick to the knees. “The lady’s not done.”
Darleen eased Tal back and continued. “Sons in this town are encouraged to dream big and run companies. They’re expected to buy land, go to college, or someday take over their father’s business. But girls? Most are still taught to cook and clean and babysit. And why? So one day they can cook and clean and babysit for their husbands and then their sons. I was so much more than that, Tom. Gracie is, too. All girls are.”
Tal stood over him. Her eyes flashed green again.
“I couldn’t take seeing you treat her the same way you treated me,” Darleen continued. “Knowing the cycle would just continue without me being able to stop it, or stop you. So, I stopped me. I ended the hurt and heartache by getting out the only way I knew how.”
Darleen looked at Grace. “I’m so sorry, honey. Forgive me for leaving you. I should have been a stronger mom.”
Grace’s chin quivered.
Darleen turned back to Tom. “And I ask you to forgive me, too.”
He stared goggle-eyed from his seat in the dirt.
Tal extended a hand. He eyed her dark skin.
Darleen beamed.
It took a while, but Tom grasped her hand. Tal pivoted, leveraging herself to pull the big man to his feet. He looked at her impressed then stuffed it behind a frown.
Darleen pulsed with warmth at their contact. This marked the first time in Tom’s life he had touched an African-American with anything close to kindness.
Tal held onto him before letting go, just to elongate the opportunity. He brushed himself off.
“Now follow me,” Darleen told him, walking Tal up the steps and opening the screen door. “There’s something you and Gracie need to see.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
LINK
Rose’s knuckles whitened around the tray handles as she carried a silver tea set
from the kitchen. She set it on the sofa table and sat on the cushion by Link, close enough for their knees to touch. Smells of vanilla and cinnamon rose from the delicate, porcelain pot.
Rose filled their cups with trembling hands. “I never grieved Valerie’s loss.” She added a splash of milk to each. “And I’ve spent the years hurting for her and hating Zach.” She paused, handing Link his cup. “Thank you. For bringing her back.”
Link took a spicy sip, relishing the warmth as he swallowed.
“I’m going to tell you what happened that night, Mom,” Valerie said, taking Rose’s hand in Link’s. “Then you will understand why Zach is not responsible.”
Rose looked away, still unable to meet Link’s eye.
“I was drinking, too.”
Rose jerked up.
“I wanted to speed surf, you know? Hang onto the car as it raced down a bumpy road.”
Rose gasped. “But you wouldn’t do that.”
“Zach said no at first. He’d had one beer, but the rest of us had finished a six-pack and a box of wine, so we were pretty drunk.”
Link’s nerves wound as tight and thin as Rose’s lips.
Rose squeezed her eyes closed, bracing herself.
“Zach didn’t think we could hang on,” Valerie continued, “but I teased him until he finally agreed to drive us out to County Road Six by the water tower. The dirt road was perfect for surfing, and the dead end meant no oncoming cars. I shamed him into downing two more beers, fast, so he’d loosen up.”
Rose looked away, cheeks flushed. She clenched Link’s hand.
Link felt sorry for Rose having to face such raw truth, but honesty was the price of Elysium and Spirits had to be candid, no matter how painful the news. On the other hand, how wonderful it would be to live this open and straightforward with each other all the time. No lies. No deception. No need for games or treachery or blackmail. No human came close to that, though, except for Jesus, Buddha, and maybe Mother Teresa. It took someone special to be so candid, so honest at any cost. Link was quite certain he would not get there in this lifetime. Even as a Vessel.